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(Hey, I was at the Globe Theatre yesterday, so I have Shakespeare on the brain. Granted, Willie Shakes’ passage in Romeo and Juliet has a different meaning than my usage here, but I figured I would classy this entry up a bit for the literary geeks among you.)

Just a couple years ago, who woulda thunk the Texans would now be the most stable and entertaining of the city’s big three sports franchises? Well, besides me, that is?

I got the same flak from Astros fans, who wanted to lay blame for the team’s fall at the feet of Cecil Cooper.

Now over at Toyota Center the Rockets are selling the pickup of a guy who was cut by two teams last year, including the Rockets, as a miracle? Do you have your WWJD (“What Would Jeremy Do?”) bracelet in Rockets’ Red yet?

And over at Minute Maid the Astros, who are running a garage sale to unload a bunch of useless junk, are on pace to lose only 105 games (they lost a franchise-record 106 last year).

Can it get any worse?

Well, yeah, if the Rockets foolishly tout Omer Asik as the signing of the next great big man in team history. If so, that’s going to be one hilarious press conference. Wish I could be there.

The Big E. Moses. Ralph. Dream. Yao. Omer?

Asik is more likely to spring a leaf off of the Cliff Meely-Lee Johnson-Chuck Nevitt-Kelvin Cato branch of the Rockets Family Tree.

Oh, I’m sorry, do you think I’m being too hard on a guy who averaged 14.7 a game last season? That’s not bad for a young, second-year player.

Hey, maybe Asik can make us all forget about the biggest Turkey, I mean biggest flop from Turkey, the Rockets ever wasted a draft pick on (See: Turkcan). But generally speaking, backup centers with no offensive game are a dime a dozen in the NBA, not $25 million each. But it ain’t my money.

And the Astros … my goodness. Who are these guys?

After they were dissed by Manny Acta, who is quite possibly the only person in the history of the world to turn down a multi-million dollar job offer in Houston to accept the same job in Cleveland, yes, Cleveland, they hired Brad Mills.

Mills should have known he was in trouble when at his introductory press conference then-owner Drayton McLane said “… we selected Terry for his experience, his ability, his integrity, his ways to communicate.”

No, Brad Mills isn’t nicknamed Terry. Actually, Bradley is his middle name; his given first name is James. (He does have a best friend named Terry Francona.)

Anyway, Mills said then that there are only 30 of MLB managerial jobs available, so he wasn’t about to pass up one just because his new boss didn’t know his name. Oops.

Nobody told him that he would be the only MLB manager of a minor league team.

Of the 11 position players who played at least half the games in Mills’ first season as manager (2010), only third baseman Chris Johnson remains. That’s the Chris Johnson who is on pace to hit a whopping 10 home runs this season.

With the Astros basically getting rid of everybody associated with the team with more than three years experience, and the Rockets darn near throwing parades (and the Chronicle printing requisite special sections) for guys who weren’t good enough to start elsewhere but are treated like they will be saviors here, man, these are the dog days of summer.